


I Never Did Quite Fall

by Revival_Push



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel Derek Hale, Angel/Demon Relationship, Apocalypse, Demon Stiles Stilinski, End of the World, Good Omens References, On the Run, Prophets, References to Supernatural (TV), Religious Content, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 14:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16369268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revival_Push/pseuds/Revival_Push
Summary: Dakael, Angel of the Lord, self appoints himself as the guardian of the written word. He passes his days wandering the Earth, searching for texts and histories, carefully documenting and cataloging.And then a Demon who calls himself Stiles shows up and complicates everything. Lord knows what motivates a bizarre creature like Stiles, or why Dakael keeps putting up with him.And speaking of, has anyone seen God lately?Oh, and then there's the whole apocalypse thing.





	I Never Did Quite Fall

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing.

At first there was nothing. Not even dark, because there was no light. It had always been this way (or so we’ve been told).

And maybe God was lonely or bored or feeling a bit creative because, quite suddenly, then there was light. God created the Heavens, which was quite nice, and Earth, which was quite a lonely bit of rock in comparison. In the Heavens resided the Angels of the Lord, and they watched from their perch as God went on to create the sky and the oceans. When God created dry land one of the Angels remarked that this was not at all going to end well (the first critique). God, however, divine ruler of everything in existence, disagreed. “All this is good” He declared, and all the other Angels agreed. 

But God was not content. Life appeared in the seas and the skies. Plants sprung up from the earth. Animals appeared and wandered about quite confused. On the beginning of the fifth day the grass of the Earth was a vibrant yellow. “That isn’t very pleasant” God remarked, and then He changed the grass of the Earth to green, which God liked much better. He, in His divine intelligence, did not consult the Angels (though if He had they would have agreed). 

And then on the sixth day, completely absent of consent or reason, He created humankind. Or at least He tried. They were quite short and hairy. And lumpy. “That doesn’t look like me at all” The Lord complained. So the creatures fell to the Earth and the Angels elected to not remark on the occurrence. 

A couple attempts later God created Adam. 

And then everything got profoundly worse from there. 

-=-=-=-

God did not create Dakael on the first day. He was a gift to the General of the Second Enclave, the Archangel Tisrafil, sometime when the Earth was less young and humankind began building great structures in the desert.Tisrafil protected the Heavens. Dakael protected texts. At first it was the Holy texts, scrolls and scrolls of the ancient word of the Lord. But then the fire ripped through the library in the city of Alexandria and Dakael began collecting human texts too. Their tears did not quite move him, but he could not bear to see the waste. 

Eventually Dakael found himself living on the human earth, keeping to himself and collecting scrolls and etched stones and generally avoiding humans and Angels alike. 

That did not last. 

It was a theory of mathematics that drew Dakael to the great house of Seneca, whose attitude on libraries made Dakael dislike him on principal. But set in his home and away from all others was knowledge that Dakael sought. So he went. Dakael even brought  _ wine _ . 

It was there, lounging against a luxurious studded settee and plucking roasted nuts into its mouth that the demon sat. At first sight the creature looked quite human. It’s hair was dark and curled around his fair face like a stained glass cherub. It was it’s gold molten eyes that gave it’s unholy nature away. Dakael could see Hell fire itself in them as and danced with laughter around the words of a human woman who has sat herself near him. On closer inspection Dakael could see she was not quite so human herself. 

But Dakael wasn’t here for Demons and their monstrous companions. Dakael came for knowledge and left with knowledge, the Demon’s simmering eyes following him as he left.

-=-=-=-

The second time Dakael saw the Hell-eyed Demon was a few days later. It was standing outside the doorway to Dakael’s little home, studiously observing the calligraphy work Dakael had painted along the walls that bordered the entryway. 

It was offensive really, that such a vile thing would dare dirty the swelling of an Angel of the Lord, a direct creation of the Divine, a Warrior of-

“This is really pretty.” The Demon commented.

Dakael stood very still for a moment, and then, “Pardon me?”

“The writing. It’s very nice. Do you draw, too?”

Dakael returned to his frown, “Angels do not  _ draw _ . Now, begone with you from my door and do not return.”

But the beastly little Hellion merely stared Dakael in his eyes. “Why are you here? They say the Angels flock to Earth now, scaring prophets and hollering at pregnant women.” The Demon smiled in apparent amusement, “Is Seneca a Prophet? Does he speak the word of the Almighty between bites of cheese and tumbles with the wives of his friends?” 

Dakael reached into his robe and wrapped his hand around the smooth edge of the Angel’s Blade. It came alive at his touch, burning with the flame of the Holy Fire that forged the sword that banished humankind from Eden. But the creature was gone, his laughing echo lingering long enough to set in Dakael’s burning ears. 

-=-=-=-

The third time Dakael saw the Demon it was carrying a small stack of paper tied with a thin leather band and had an absurd set of whiskers and animal ears painted on its face. Dakael found himself unable to quite say what he liked and elected to remain silent and wait to see what happened next. 

“Here,” The Demon said, “these are for you.” 

The creature shoved the stack in Dakael’s direction in a terribly abrupt and gangly way that made Dakael take a step back.

When he looked up the creature was gone, only a faint smell of smoke left in his wake. After a moment Dakael realized the smell was actually in the papers he carried, which were all partially singed.

-=-=-=-

They did not meet again for another three-hundred years. Another place, another woman hanging on the creature in an intimate fashion entirely foreign to Dakael. The Demon spots him almost immediately, his head popping up as if catching a scent. 

Dakael did not acknowledge the Demon, did not watch the line of his throat and it turned back to the young woman and whisper is her gold hooped ear. 

Eventually the creature found Dakael as he wandered through halls lined with velvet and art. The stain glass windows left flashes of red and yellows across the walls. Dakael found himself stopping in front of a marble carved shelf that held the Talmud that brought him here. It wasn’t old, not even by human standards, but it was the oldest of its kind that still survived. It didn’t in this place. Dakael wasn’t sure it belonged anywhere anymore. It was a thought that left him profoundly sad, but he wasn’t quite sure why. 

It was there the Demon found him.

“Her name is Erika” It said.

But Dakael did not care about the Demon or the humans it consorted with.  

Unbothered by Dakael’s disinterest he continued, “She is the wife of Vitus. He had another name, once. He was taken from across the continents as a slave, but now he is a famed General. People sing songs about him.”

The creature leaned in towards the Talmud, inspecting it. Dakael shifted in front of him. Demons were not fit to view Holy words, not even those made by the hands of humans. 

“She wants to curry favor with me.” The Demon turned to him. “Aren’t you going to ask why?”

Dakael frowned. “Why do humans do anything? Greed, power. It’s all the same.”

The creature tutted, “Such negative opinions of humans for an Angel in love with such human things. She is barren and wants a baby.”

That caught his attention. Dakael looked up in alarm, “She wants you to make her pregnant?” 

His panicked pitch seemed to delight the Demon. “She wants only her husband's child, so don’t you worry your fine feathers over monster children from me. “My name is Stiles, by the way, since you never asked.”

A bit peeved at his own reaction, Dakael adjusted his robe, “It never would have formed to life anyways. They never do. And I don’t care to know your name, creature.”

That seemed to do something to the Demon, though Dakael couldn’t say what. The Angel watched Stiles turn to the sun, now darkened and setting on the day. His burning yellow eyes seemed softer in the fading light, not unlike the soft glitter of gold dust on skin. Dakael felt something in his stomach he did not find enjoyable in the least. And then the Demon was gone. And then Stiles was gone. 

-=-=-=-

“My father is Seir, Price of Hell, Commander ot twenty-six legions of the Army of Hell.”

Stiles was lounging in the sun. As a general rule Angels did not lounge, but Dakael was seated and vaguely comfortable, a bound book propped in his lap. 

Sometime between the sixth and seventh century the pair came to a sort of accord. Dakael sought out the lost texts of the human world and Stiles sought out Dakael. The Demon never caused trouble so Dakael never bothered to get around to smiting him. 

“I existed after The Great Fall.” Stiles continued, “Born outside the Halls of Grace. But my father did not descend in the mass exodus. He just left one day.”

“That’s absurd. Why would any Angel willingly leave Grace?”

Stiles shrugged, “He wasn’t the first. It’s not so bad.”

Dakael set down his text, “You only think that because you’ve never been to Heaven.”

“You’ve lived on Earth as long as I’ve known you.” Stiles reminded Dakael. 

And Dakael didn’t have a good answer to that.

-=-=-=-

“I’ve decided to reinvent myself.” Dakael turned to find Stiles looking only mildly absurd, which was entirely normal. Stiles had already acquired a cup of coffee, though he most definitely did not wait in line or pay. Dakael tried to reason that Starbucks could probably take the hit, though Demons have been killed for far less.

“Is that why you’re wearing all…” Dakael waived his hand in the Demon’s general direction.

Stiles slipped down the oversized sunglasses perched on his head so they sat on his nose. “It’s called plaid and I like it.”    
“I know what plaid is, Stiles. I meant the cartoon man with cat ears.”

“Oh.” Stiles seemed vaguely appeased. “He’s Batman.”

“What does he do?”

“Fight criminals and rescue orphans.” 

Dakael scoffed. 

But Stiles didn’t offer a smile or teasing remark.

“Have you heard any rumors, Dakael? From Heaven?”

“Angels don’t gossip, Stiles.” Which wasn’t entirely accurate, but gossiping certainly was not something Angels  _ should  _ do.

But there was something in Stiles’ tone that gave him pause. “What have you heard, Stiles?”

“I’m really not sure.” And Stiles refused to speak more on it.

-=-=-=-

_ ‘It’  _ turned out to be The End. And Dakael kicked himself for not listening, for wandering the Earth and collecting books and knowledge that had no meaning, no purpose without-without  _ them _ . For all Dakael turned away from humanity, his existence was now tied to them by the nature of his creed. Dakael, Angel of the Lord, was the protector of Earthly knowledge, but what was the point with  _ no Earth _ ? 

He doesn’t know why or how, but Dakael found himself at the door of a warehouse in a broken down city of no significance, except the great significance housed within its walls. Inside he would find the Prophet of the Lord who stole away the Great Pretender in its infancy. The idea of the betrayal. Especially from a human granted such a  _ gift  _ from God. Yet she interfered with The Plan. How she could know the child from any other Dakael could not even begin to guess. What was a greater mystery still was how he found himself aware of her location before all others. And then the other part. The part where no Angel except himself still knew.

And then, across the threshold, wearing a false beauty to mask his internal nature, stood Stiles. 

And Dakael hated him.

_ Hated  _ him.  

Dakael had never known passion of any kind. It wasn’t in his nature. But now the rage, the fury. By God’s righteous bestowal, Dakael would smite, would incinerate would-

“Dakael,  _ please _ .”

And suddenly Dakael, Angel of the Lord, was quite sure he knew why Angels willingly fell.

"This is wrong, Stiles. It's the _Anti-Christ_."

"It's a baby!" Stiles rubbed at his round golden eyes ans Dakael swore he was wetness clinging to his black eye lashes. He sighed, resigned. "Have you come to kill us then?

"No."

“Then why are you here?”

Dakael paused, his mouth slightly open and his eyes suddenly looking very unsure. This child was to bring on the end of days. It wasn't supposed to become known for years yet. Less than a blink in the grand scheme of time, but still it was time left to the Earth... 

“You did this. You took the Prophet, the  _ child _ .” Dakael felt his throat constrict. “How could you do this?”

But of course Stiles could. He was a Demon. A vile creature of Hell. He did not of Grace or goodness. Only his own selfish wants.  

“I didn’t.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“I mean I would have, but-”

“But I did first.”

Dakael didn’t start. Angels of the Lord do not start. But he was perhaps not entirely aware.

She stood defiant, powerful even, and Dakael could feel the Spirit resting in her. Even in her sin she was clearly marked. The Prophet.

The Prophet of the Lord. 

Dakael had to tell someone. Michael. His mother. Anyone. 

But then Stiles was grasping onto Dakael’s arm and all he could think was the Demon had never dared to touch his skin before. 

“Dakael, Dakael,  _ please _ . Help me save them. I was going to take the child. But the girl got there first and I realized...I thought she could help me raise it. Change everything.” Stiles rambled on, unaware to the numbness Dakael was feeling. 

“Stiles.”

“Dakael.”

“ _ No _ .”

Stiles drew in a harsh breath and withdrew. Behind him the Prophet rested her small hand on her chest. No, not her chest. The creature that was bound to it by a swath of fabric.

“ _ God Almighty _ , Stiles.”

“What God?” Stiles threw his arms out, squaring away. But he didn’t look ready to fight. Stiles looked like he was going to throw himself on his knees. “Where is he, Dakael?  _ Where is God _ ?”

But Dakael didn’t know. He’s not sure anyone did anymore.

Heaven’s awful secret.

“Help me, Dakael.  _ Help me save the Earth from our kind _ .”

“Stiles, you’re a  _ demon _ . You can’t possibly be serious!”

“Exactly! But now we have the Prophet. But she’s human. She needs protection. We can do that together! The Prophet -”

“My  _ name  _ is Lydia.”

“-can teach it humanity, kindness,  _ compassion. _ ”

“Stiles.”

“Do you remember the first day I entered your home? I know it was runed, and you saw I could break them, pass through them. I know how to evade them, Dakael-”

“Stiles.”

“It’s not right Dakael. I don’t know the Grace of God, but I know this isn’t right.”

“Yes.”

“Plea-. What?”

“Yes. I will help you. But they'll look for the child.”

Stiles gave a weak smile, "I know. But they won't look for me or you, right? We're nobodies."

Dakael found himself agreeing. They would not look for Dakael. He was no leader, no rebelling force. And Stiles was the wayward offspring of a minor Prince of Hell. No one would think of them.

And then the child... 

"What do you call it?"

And the Prophet replied, "Her name is Cora."

-=-=-=-

Elsewhere, everywhere and nowhere, He resided. For a long time He pushed and pulled and directed, but these days He watched. Sometimes watching was hard, the only thing that had ever been hard, really.  But it looked like things were going quite well, all considering. 

The Angels were getting quite snippy, but they were hard to please on any day.  These days they had a new purpose, even if they did not know it yet. But they would learn. 

Some already had.

He tried not to pay too much attention the one collecting parenting books. It wasn't his usual fare, but none of the Angels bothered to check otherwise. 

So the Angel was left alone. _They_ were left alone.

And then, much like the seventh day, He brewed a pot of tea, enjoyed the stars, and then took a nap. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a message after the ___.


End file.
